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Updated: May 8, 2025
"They've found him," I cried, rising to hear the song of the hounds. Weston sat down on the log. "They are making for the other ridge," said I, pointing over the narrow gully. "Hark! There's young Colonel." But Weston went on smoking. "Poor Tim!" I heard him say. Full and strong rang the music of the dogs, as they swung out of the hollow, up the ridge-side.
Before me stood not Mary, but Josiah Nummler. It was kind of Josiah to come, for he is an old man and lives a full mile above the village, half way up the ridge-side.
Higher and higher it rises, into the tree-tops, then over them; higher and higher, bathing the valley in soft, white light, uncovering the gray road that climbs the ridge-side; higher and higher, until the pines on the ridge-top stand out boldly, fringing into the sky; higher and higher, casting mysterious shadows over the meadows, touching with light the hillside, new-ploughed and naked; clear and white lies the road over the flats to the hill there clear and white and smooth.
And then the little lights grew misty and dim in my eyes as glimpses came of my own early days; of play on that very ridge-side where I sat now, where I had then romantically sworn friendship with George Stairs on the eve of my departure for Elstree School, and his leaving with his father for Canada. How had I kept my vow? Where was George Stairs now?
For a moment, as I watched him, he seemed to be in the gulch again; we looked over the towering walls of brick and stone, and to me they were the ridge-side, dark and sombre in the gray light; we looked beyond the crest of it, beyond the chimneys, the tall pines which pierced the sky-line, and our eyes rested on a flake of cloud. I think it must have been there. I felt the pressure of his hand.
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